


Marvellous Mezzo Maria – In & Out of Pants

by BardicRaven



Category: Original Work
Genre: Big Break, Comic Opera, F/F, Operas, Theater - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/pseuds/BardicRaven
Summary: Tony the Tenor was a nuisance to all, and then his ego threatened the whole show, until a Mezzo in Pants stepped up to save the day.. and the girl.





	Marvellous Mezzo Maria – In & Out of Pants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FanchonMoreau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanchonMoreau/gifts).



His actual name was Anthony Mikelsson, but in her mind (and frankly, the rest of the cast and crew’s minds as well, saving only his Most Noble Tenoric Self), he was known, unflatteringly, as ‘Tony the Tenor’. He had a tenor’s stereotypical desire for adulation and sex – often, but not necessarily, in that order, and had been slapped by more than one soprano (mezzo, baritone, bass – he publically prided himself on being what he called ‘try-sexual’ - he’d try anything and anybody that would let him), for his inability to keep his hands where they belonged – off their persons and on his music.

Unfortunately, he really was nearly as talented as he was in his own mind, which was the only thing keeping him still a member of the company. He’d been spoken to quite sharply by both stage manager and music director alike, on more than one occasion for both, and none of it seemed to have had much effect.

Maria was tired of it, and him, and knew that she had far from the worst of it. After all, she was Merely a Mezzo, as he never hesitated to remind her, and should therefore feel flattered if, at any time, he chose to pause in his pursuit of the lead soprano and turn his tiresome attentions on her.

She disagreed strongly with his sentiment, and had no hesitation to inform him of her opinion via whatever means necessary: a slap across the face, a forcible removal of wandering hands in front of the entire cast and the music director, and finally, a sharp knee to the balls, causing him to hit new heights of falsetto for quite some time after.

After that, he finally got the message and left her alone, turning all of his unwanted attentions on the other members of the cast.

Especially Sara, the lead soprano. Now there was the one thing that Maria and Tony the Terrible Tenor agreed upon: Sara was hot, scalding, smoking hot, all the way from her luscious high notes down to the tips of her dainty toes. Maria didn’t know about Tony, but as for herself, she knew that if she were ever lucky enough to get Sara into bed, there wasn’t much of anything that would get her to kick her out. Eating crackers, singing off-key, Maria couldn’t think of anything at the moment that would cause her to deny herself the pleasures of making Sara sing her high notes for an entirely different reason.

Tho’ honestly, it was hard to think around her, period. Maria was professional enough not to let her attraction interfere with her performance – or at least not so much that anyone else noticed besides her – but there were times when Maria had to admit it was a near thing.

When Sara would reach for the skies with those gorgeous coloratura notes floating over everything and everyone, telling the world of her longing for love in the dramatic third act duet with Tony the Tenor, it was everything Maria could do to keep her attention on her music, when every fiber of her being wanted to answer that call with one of her own. To show Sara what true love meant, the kind that supported and respected, not the kind that only took.

Not that she knew if Sara would even be interested. She kept herself to herself when she wasn’t on-stage or specifically needed elsewhere. She didn’t go out with the rest of the company after rehearsal, she didn’t go off in a corner and gossip between acts, none of that. So it was difficult to tell where Sara’s desires lay, if indeed she had any beyond her music. Not everyone did. Maria knew that much, at least, as well as the all-too-common preying done by the males upon the females in the opera world.

Sara wasn’t aloof, not exactly, but she certainly didn’t encourage any of the people around her to get to know her better. Not that she could blame her, Maria thought sourly, as she watched Sara slap Tony yet again for his impertinence, this time for looking down her cleavage during their duet.

_If only,_ Maria thought, I could be on-stage with her. _I’d show her what a love-duet really sounds like._ To her trained ears, Tony’s performance sounded like ‘me, me, me, and me-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee!’ rather than the actual lyrics. Tony’s performance was all about Tony, and the rest of the cast, crew, and show, could go hang, for all he cared. Until he wanted them in his bed, at least. Then, and only then, would they matter the least little bit, and even then, only for as long as he wanted them there.

Maria bit her tongue as she waited for her entrance, wishing that it could be her serenading Sara, showing her the depth of her devotion, supporting her performance, not trying to top it. Together they would soar on the wings of audience adulation, raised up by the applause until they chose to come down, together.

She blew out an angry breath. Might as well wish for the moon. It had about as likely a chance as happening. Sopranos didn’t go out with mezzos. Even if they were lesbian, they still tended to go out with other sopranos, ladies who could match them note for note. Not a mezzo, who could charm with throaty depths, but didn’t stand an incicle’s chance in Hell of matching them as they danced above the staff.

Her role didn’t help, of course. A tasty little comprimario role, one she’d been rather proud of getting, until she’d seen the singer of her Dreams. But now, well, how could it compare with singing the lead? She wasn’t even singing the mezzo lead, just that little comprimario role, however interesting and necessary to the story it was. It, and she, could never compete.

And so, Maria sang, putting her hopeless longing into her role, bringing praise from the music director, but never from the one she most wanted to hear it from.

And time passed.

* * *

 

The day of the show had arrived. Tony had finally gotten the message, at least when it came to most of the cast, and after a hissed promise from Sara that if he didn’t keep his hands to himself, he’d find himself a castrati in short order, he managed to get the message there as well.

Peace, or what passed for it on a show day, reigned in the theater. Nerves were present, as they always were, but managed to stay under control. Last-minute polishes to costumes, scenery, make-up, music, and lines filled the air, eddies in the current bearing them relentlessly towards showtime.

Finally, it was time. The heavy velvet curtain rose and the show began.

And that’s where it all started to go wrong.

* * *

 It was evident nearly from the first note that Tony was in distress. It got worse and worse as the show went on, until by the second intermission, he could barely croak a note. What was worse, he had no understudy - a condition of his appearance. “I’m so good, I don’t need an understudy.” were his famous words on the subject, a source of great bitterness backstage now.

“You fool!” Sara hissed, sounding remarkably like an angry cat. “Thanks to you and your rampaging ego, the show will have to close without a third act.”

Anthony had the grace (or the wisdom) to look embarrassed. He opened his mouth to say something, but, perhaps fortunately, all he could manage was an awkward croak.

“What was that?” Sara asked venomously. “What’s that you’re saying? That you’re sorry? That you apologize for being such a self-centered, selfish ASS that you’ve single-handedly RUINED this show? No? Well, here’s something you can feel sorry about!” And the soprano matched deed to word, kneeing him firmly in the balls. A subdued round of cheering went up, mindful of the audience waiting on the other side of the curtain. Both cast and crew had waited too long for something like that to happen to let it pass completely unheralded, however.

As Anthony curled around himself, Sara turned to the rest of the crowd, “Well, I can’t deny that was therapeutic, but what are we going to do for a tenor for the third act?” She looked at Barry, one of their basses, who firmly shook his head.

“No way, Sara. Even if I did it an octave down, no-one would believe me in the part.”

Sara nodded sharply, clearly annoyed, but equally clearly agreeing with him. “Well?” She looked around at the rest of the group. “Anyone have any brilliant suggestions?”

Maria cleared her throat, “I do, actually.”

“Oh?” Sara’s voice was curious, not contemptuous, and that gave Maria the courage to go on.

“Yes,” she said, growing bolder the more she thought about it. “Yes, I do. I could sing the part.”

“Oh?” Still curious, thank Goodness.

Maria took a breath, took a chance. After all, what did she have to lose? “Yes. I could sing the role. It’s not like my part is very big and my scenes have all happened. It’s pretty much in my range anyway, and…” she paused, embarrassed, “I’ve been practicing the role.”

Sara’s eyebrows went up at that, but fortunately, she didn’t ask any questions. She took one look at her and nodded. “I’ll go talk to the director. Go talk to the costumer, see if there’s something she can do. We’ve got fifteen minutes before curtain.”

* * *

 

It was only fifteen minutes, but it was enough. Fortunately, Maria was already in pants because of her compramario role, so a quick change of shirt, a new wig and some make-up, and she was ready to go there.

Fifteen minutes didn’t really give the butterflies in her stomach enough time to do more than flutter once or twice before she was due back on-stage, which was a mercy. She ran up from the dressing room and into the wings, just as the roar of the audience signaled the beginning of the act.

She took a few deep breaths and readied herself.

It was time.

* * *

 

Sara led with her part of the duet. Maria blushed as she recalled how she’d fantasized about singing this role in just this way, then pushed everything away that wasn’t the role and stepped on-stage and sang.

It was beautiful. It was everything she’d ever hoped it would be. And apparently the audience thought so too, because they shot to their feet at the end of the show, clapping furiously. In the curtain call, after Tony the Tenor took his bow, Sara reached her hand back to the second row, where Maria waited her turn, and gestured her forward. Stunned, Maria stepped forward, took Sarah’s hand, and took such a deep bow that for a moment, she was afraid that she’d fall over.

After the company bow and the mingling with the audience, Maria found herself back in the dressing room, changing back into her everyday clothes, wondering how she could possibly make this evening last. As she wondered, Sara swept into the dressing room, scooping Maria up into an impromptu dance.

“You were lovely, darling!” Sara said, as she released her. “So much better to sing with than that dreadful Tony. I don’t suppose I could do that with you again, could I?”

“Any time,” Maria whispered, figuring that Sara was joking, high on the rush of a successful show, that there was no way that she could actually mean it.

“I’m sorry, darling?” Sara asked. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

Maria took another breath. Again, she had nothing to lose. “I said any time.”

Sara paused, took Maria’s arm as she looked deeply into Maria’s eyes. “I do believe you mean it,” she said, half to herself.

_Did she?_ Maria thought, a warm curl of desire beginning to waft up her body. “I do.” Maria said. “I’ll sing with you any time.” She swallowed, daring one thing more. “And anything else you’d like too.” And kissed her.

Sara startled and Maria’s heart sank. She started to stammer an apology when Sara pulled Maria to her and kissed her back. Strong and deep, leaving Maria singing on the inside as Sara said. “Later.” in a breathless whisperbefore releasing her that left that curl of desire expanding into a tsunami of passion that only waited to crash upon its chosen shore.

Maria could barely contain her desire as the two of them went to the cast party, turning it into one long flirtation that left them both half-mad with desire by the end of it.

“My place or yours?” they asked at the same time then laughed as they found themselves out in the parking lot of the restaurant after the party had finally ended.

“Mine,” Sara said. “It’s closer and I don’t have roommates.” She pulled Maria close, kissing her again. “That means that we can take our time.”

Maria nodded, happily speechless. It was looking to be the best night of her life.

* * *

 

A deliciously indeterminate time later, Maria laughed, low and hearty. Sarah gazed at her lover, confused. “What is it?”

Maria shook her head. “It’s just that, this time, the tenor didn’t get the girl.” As she bent her head to give her lover a kiss, she added smugly, with just a touch of passion, “I did.”

Sarah pulled her down beside her, the better to reach her, to enjoy the rest of the night to come. “You certainly did.”

And for the first time, tho’ nowhere near the last, Maria the Mezzo was finally glad of her pants. They’d brought her the role of a lifetime and the girl of her dreams, and the last thought Maria had before happily surrendering to the night was that things couldn't get any better.

**Author's Note:**

> My live experience is both slender and only with comic opera, but I hope this was close enough to bring you a good story!


End file.
